


Talk

by what_can_I_say_Im_a_fan



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 19:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_can_I_say_Im_a_fan/pseuds/what_can_I_say_Im_a_fan
Summary: In Bangkok, Taeil comes looking for attention.





	Talk

Sicheng expects Ten when he hears the soft click of the door, so it’s a shock when he looks up from his phone and sees Taeil slink into the room, a toothy grin already on his face. He rolls over and curls into his phone but Taeil approaches him anyway, pulling off his shoes and sliding onto the bed, crowding against Sicheng’s back.

“Hey Sicheng,” Taeil says, and Sicheng swears he can feels his breath against his ear. He shivers, despite himself.

“Si. Cheng,” Sicheng utters without looking. One of Taeil’s hands creep up to smooth over the bare skin of his arm, setting his hair on end.

“Hmm?” Taeil hums.

“You keep saying it wrong. It’s not _Sicheng_ , it’s Si-Cheng.”

“Sicheng,” Taeil tries, but Sicheng shakes his head minutely. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll try harder.”

Sicheng lets out a long breath, rolling his eyes at the nickname. It definitely doesn’t get to him. He never asks to be babied. And he should really tell Taeil to stop, though maybe the flush that it brings to his cheeks is part of why he hasn’t.

“Whatcha doing?” Taeil asks then, peering over his shoulder.

“Nothing.” He was in the middle of a game, really, but Taeil’s entrance shocked him into getting killed.

“So you’re not busy?”

“Why,” Sicheng murmurs. He thumbs through his phone, clicking on one of the new games he’s picked up lately. But Taeil reaches over him, plucking the phone out of his hands and switching it off before tossing it onto the bedspread. “Hey,” he starts, before he turns over just so that their sudden proximity steals any protests from his mouth.

Taeil’s hand doesn’t withdraw, leaving them in the awkward position of Taeil almost having Sicheng pinned to the bed, so close that each of Taeil’s breaths fans over his face. Sicheng blinks rapidly, then rolls over and out from Taeil’s arms, picking up his phone again.

“I wanna talk,” Taeil says, and Sicheng scoffs.

“We talk all the time.”

“Not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like this, when no one’s around.” Taeil cozies up next to him, folding his hands on Sicheng’s shoulder. He pulls the fabric a little, and Sicheng doesn’t realize what’s happening until Taeil bends his head to press a dry kiss to his exposed collarbone. He flinches, gooseflesh erupting around the point of contact, then Taeil kisses him again at the base of his neck and he immediately wishes he could retract it like a turtle.

“Taeil hyung,” Sicheng starts, but loses his train of thought when Taeil nuzzles against him.

He hums, and Sicheng feels the vibrations from Taeil’s chest. “Can I have a hug?”

“I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, but. It’s been a long day.”

“You always want to hug me. Are your days always so long?”

“Yeah,” Taeil admits, “and I like you.” His arms slip around his waist, holding him tight even in this awkward semi-horizontal position, and Taeil sighs with gratitude that only makes Sicheng blush harder.

He will never understand how Taeil is so shameless.

“How do you like Bangkok?” Taeil murmurs.

“It’s okay.”

“Just okay?”

Sicheng huffs, feels Taeil’s arms tighten around him--if that is possible. “I mean, it’s beautiful, great. I love it here.”

“I love you,” Taeil confesses into his shoulder. Sicheng has to cover his face.

“Ugh, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Saying I love you.” They’ve talked about this a thousand times. He can’t remember the last time it was like this, though--Taeil wrapped around him, already so present it seemed pointless to resist.

“But it’s the truth.”

“You don’t have to remind me ten times a day.”

“What if I want to?”

“Then you should still stop.”

Taeil pouts. Sicheng can see it because he’s peeking at him despite his better judgment, tracing the way he draws his lower lip between his teeth and lets it go. “Does it really upset you?”

“Yes,” Sicheng says, his own tiredness of the subject coming through in his voice. “Please.”

He doesn’t mean to say it like that, but Taeil seems to get the message. His deathgrip on Sicheng’s waist slackens. “Okay, baby.”

“And don’t--” Sicheng’s bites his lip and rolls his eyes up at the ceiling. He can’t get it out.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t call me...that.”

Taeil is silent for a moment. “What, baby?”

“Yes! God.” Sicheng smacks a hand over his face.

“Why not?”

“Why does it matter? Just listen to me when I tell you not to do things.”

“But I thought you liked it.”

“Wh--” Sicheng blinks down at Taeil and immediately flushes harder at the expectant sparkle in his eyes. “I do not.”

“Not even a little bit?”

Sicheng wriggles, trying to increase the distance between them, but Taeil’s grip is rock solid. “Not one.”

“Okay.” Taeil lifts himself suddenly, propping himself up to look down at him with a soft smirk on his face. “You’re still my baby, though.”

Sicheng grits his teeth and pinches Taeil’s forearm where it’s slung over his body. Taeil hisses and withdraws the hand, but it’s a bitter victory; Sicheng’s cheeks burn like a hot iron, painfully aware of the way the heat in his gut betrays him yet again.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

 _Lies_ , Sicheng knows. It’ll slip out somehow, and Sicheng will fail to mention it because of his own cursed hatred of confrontation and embarrassment. And then. Well.

“Mmm, Sicheng,” Taeil says, and starts to stroke Sicheng’s warm cheek. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“No I’m not.”

“How would you know,” he murmurs back. “That’s why I can’t help it.”

Sicheng has to force himself to meet Taeil’s eyes. He’s no longer expectant, only enamored, and so close that his breath ghosts over Sicheng’s face.

“Can I do more?” he whispers. Sicheng swallows, and finds his mouth is already dry.

“Like what.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Sicheng glances at the door, then, as if it were about to burst open. “Where’s Ten?”

“Playing with Johnny. Somewhere.”

Sicheng would snort at the phrasing if Taeil wasn’t _right there_. “Hmm. Okay,” he hums with more calm than he feels.

Taeil smiles. His hand drifts to cup Sicheng’s face, thumbing the bolt of his jaw, and he leans in with the barest moment of hesitation.

Their lips meet, and it’s soft, dry, so restrained. Sicheng’s eyes flutter closed even as his heartbeat thrums more insistently each moment that passes. It’s impossible that Taeil can’t hear it. He draws away, then, and Sicheng opens his eyes to see Taeil gazing at him with such fondness he wants to crawl out of his skin.

Then Taeil grabs his other hand, lacking their fingers together and nuzzles his cheek.

“You smell good.”

“Huh,” Sicheng mumbles. The way Taeil noses along his cheek is far too distracting. “I don’t.”

“Shh,” Taeil says, and kisses him again.

Taeil’s lips are almost always chapped; but this time, they meet Sicheng’s with a new softness that gives him pause. He must be using his vaseline diligently, or something.

Sicheng doesn’t realize his eyes are squeezed shut, brow furrowed, until Taeil breaks the kiss and looks down at him, drawing Sicheng’s brows apart with a thumb.

“Relax, Sichengie.” Sicheng works his jaw, blinking up at Taeil. It’s an absurd request, but he doesn’t say it.

“I am,” he whispers instead.

Taeil nods slowly. Then he flops over into the pillows, pulling Sicheng on his side to face him and unentangling their hands so he can cup Sicheng’s face. “I want you to feel good.”

“Okay,” Sicheng says.

Taeil smiles. He pulls Sicheng into a kiss, more insistently this time. He draws Sicheng’s lower lip between his teeth and works his hand over Sicheng’s neck and sides to bring them closer together, deeper into the pillows. Sicheng never knows where to put his hands. He  touches Taeil’s waist tentatively, but digs his fingers into the hardness there when Taeil licks over the seam of his mouth, the heat in his gut spiking. He knows Taeil’s body is solid, but the way it gets him hot is startling, almost scary with how this aspect of him is so unrecognizable from the Taeil he used to know. But then, a lot of things about him are.

Their breath fills the space between them, and the soft sounds of their lips sliding together, the way the sheets rustle when Taeil runs his hands over his body, greedily mapping every plane and curve as if it’s the first time. (It is not.) He squeezes his ass, playful, and Sicheng inhales sharply through his nose. But Taeil doesn’t indicate he’s noticed, kneading the flesh there and making soft sounds into their kisses, as if it gives _him_ pleasure--nevermind the way Taeil’s hand so close to his crotch makes the blood leave his head and his dick pulse.

His hand wanders, wrapping around the inside of one slim thigh and pulling their hips together, and oh. Taeil’s hard. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but like every other time, the reality leaves Sicheng helpless.

Taeil’s hand wraps around his thigh well, grinding their hips together, and the friction is beyond wonderful--Sicheng breaks the kiss, moaning his pleasure softly. Taeil nudges his knee between Sicheng’s legs, urging him on.

“That’s it,” Taeil mumbles when Sicheng instinctively chases the pressure on his crotch. He rolls his hips, tentative, and Taeil groans his approval. “Perfect.”

Sicheng’s face feels hot. He squeezes his eyes closed, ignoring his embarrassment to get himself off on Taeil’s thigh. He can feel Taeil’s eyes on him, but his thigh is thick and taut with muscle, the perfect size for him to straddle. He thinks of what else of Taeil’s he could be riding and lets out a choked gasp. The thought burns in him. He wants.

Taeil’s eyes are hot and serious when he opens his own to meet them, and he can’t bear it; he buries his face in Taeil’s shoulder, lets him kiss his neck and grope his ass while Sicheng ruts against him. Taeil won’t leave marks, but he lavishes his attention on Sicheng’s neck and the spot under his ear like he wants to anyway. His teeth come out; he bites his ear, the left one with a point, and Sicheng whines.

“Fuck,” Taeil breathes and kisses him again, messy and hotter than before. Sicheng’s head swims with the slide of their tongues, Taeil’s hands on him.

He doesn’t know how they always end up like this. It wasn’t something he would’ve anticipated, having this kind of relationship with his hyung; but he’s in too deep to put up much resistance, and Taeil is so sweet to him, really, and he thinks--he might--

“Sichengie,” Taeil whispers. “Love.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” His eyes glitter in the soft lighting of the room, pupils blown. “You’re gorgeous.”

Sicheng mumbles an ambiguous reply, cheeks burning, and Taeil laughs. He rolls them over, presses Sicheng onto his back and props himself up over him. Sicheng lets him. His heart pounds in anticipation as Taeil drags his hand down his chest, eyes fixed on Sicheng’s face for any reaction as he reaches his crotch and cups his hardened cock through his sweats.

A smirk cracks Taeil’s lips as he thumbs over the head, making Sicheng’s eyelids flutter. Sicheng finds himself grabbing onto Taeil’s wrist as he teases over the shaft; but what for, he isn’t sure.

“Please,” he says. _Please what_. He doesn’t know. He’s sure he’s lost all control of the situation, even of himself.

“Sichengie,” Taeil says. He pulls down Sicheng’s waistband, dips his hand inside Sicheng’s underwear to pull out his cock. It’s pink and hard and leaking at the tip, and Taeil’s hand wraps around it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Sicheng groans.

Taeil continues to tease him like this, his eyes searching. Sicheng wants to ask, but it’s Taeil who does first.

“Can I fuck you?”

Sicheng’s dick twitches in Taeil’s grip. The words sear his skin, arrest him physically; he can’t remember how long it’s been. His hands hand come up to cover his face, useless to hide his reaction, but nonetheless.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

Something in Taeil’s gaze darkens. He pitches forward to kiss him again, hand still on Sicheng’s cock, and starts to slide his other hand up Sicheng’s abdomen, bunching up his shirt. Sicheng takes the hint and twists his shirt off, tosses it aside. Taeil looks distracted, so Sicheng pushes at his shoulder.

“You too.”

“Yeah,” Taeil assents, and pulls off his own shirt. Sicheng bites his lip so he doesn’t moan at the sight, like an idiot. Taeil’s ego doesn’t need it, but _god_ he’s so cut, enough to surprise him every time; though maybe the way his cock blurts out more precum is enough of a tell anyway.

He discards his sweats and underwear, and he’s left with gooseflesh bubbling up on his skin in the cool air of the hotel room, nipples hard and dick left unattended while Taeil fishes something out the back pocket of his jeans. Sicheng’s mouth pops open.  

Taeil grins at him, sets the small bottle of lube aside so he sink down on top of Sicheng, forearms pinned on either side of his head. “I came prepared,” he drawls innocently.

He’s scandalized. To think that Taeil came slinking over with _lube_ in his back pocket-- _I wanna talk_ his ass, he was looking for sex, probably knew he would end up fucking Sicheng if he got his way. And Sicheng is weak, wanting it anyway.

Words abandon him. He kisses Taeil angrily, bites his lip _hard_ , but Taeil welcomes it with a smile. Then he flicks his thumb over his nipple, and Sicheng can’t help but arch into it. That brings their hips together, Sicheng’s erection smearing precum along Taeil’s abs and Taeil’s clothed bulge pressing into his thigh. And fuck, he wants it, aches for it. His pride can wait.

Taeil’s fingers tease him relentlessly; he abandons Sicheng’s mouth next, moving down the bed to tongue Sicheng’s oversensitive nipple. A whine escapes him. Taeil’s eyes flick up, mischievous, and his teeth close around him. Sicheng’s toes curl. He’s lost.

Taeil isn’t satisfied until both of his nipples are red and puffy, slick with the saliva that drips from his mouth when he parts. His hair is mussed from where Sicheng had inadvertently begun pulling on it, lips swollen and shiny; Sicheng’s gut flips at the sight. Taeil moves off of him then, and Sicheng’s eyes drop to where he’s straining in his jeans.

“Love,” Taeil says, thumbing Sicheng’s bare hip, and Sicheng thinks he might hate that nickname even more. “Turn over for me?”

Sicheng’s cheeks flare. It’s humiliating, his eagerness to obey in this state, but Taeil’s hands cradle his hips gently, hot yet somehow soothing as he turns over to hold himself up on his knees.

He quivers, anticipation choking him. Then Taeil moves, finally, only to trail his hands over the curve of his back, thumbing his spine and the jut of his shoulder blades.

“Beautiful,” Taeil says. His hand rests on the back of his neck, squeezing gently, and Sicheng’s mouth falls open. “So pretty, Sichengie.”

There’s a click as Taeil uncaps the lube. A pause, and Taeil grips his ass suddenly, spreading him so his hole is exposed to the cool air. Sicheng squeezes his eyes shut.

“Shh,” Taeil hums. He bends over him to kiss his spine, assures him: “It’s alright.”

“Yeah,” Sicheng forces out. He closes his eyes and steels himself--then jolts when a lubed-up finger starts circling his hole.

“You’re so pretty here.” Another click, and more lube drizzles over his hole and taint, drips carelessly onto the sheets below. “So sexy for me.”

Sicheng shouldn’t be affected by this, bland praises and assurances that Taeil utters in a monotone voice, like he’s unaware Sicheng is even listening; and Taeil does have a habit of that, talking to himself, but it’s something else when they’re together like this.

“I wonder how you’d taste.” Sicheng’s shoulder blades come together, but Taeil presses them apart, refuses to let him tense up. “Would you like that? Would you let me lick you out?”

The idea flashes in Sicheng’s mind. On his knees like this, but with Taeil’s face buried in his ass. His tongue in Sicheng’s hole. He didn’t know Taeil was that dirty.

“You’re insane,” he says without thinking. Taeil huffs out a laugh.

“Why? I’ve always wanted to try it.” He hums, considering. “Well, not always. Just since I met you.”

He thrusts a finger in him, and Sicheng cries out, head bowing. Not in pain; he does this often enough to himself, and the ache is welcome, like the soreness one feels after a long day of practice. But Taeil’s fingers are thicker than his own, stretch him more bluntly, and Sicheng feels it as the finger slides slowly in and out of his hole.

Taeil soothes him by caressing his thigh, whispers, “You take me so well, baby.” The nickname slip doesn’t escape him, but Sicheng can’t find it in him to protest as he gasps into the pillow. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“You already are,” Sicheng mumbles. Taeil snorts.

“You know what I mean.” On an inward thrust, Taeil crooks his finger and brushes past his prostate. Sicheng seizes. It’s instant and electric, the way his body lights up every time Taeil touches on the swollen bundle of nerves; and Taeil navigates him so well, plays with him until his thighs are trembling.  “So good, Sichengie.” He slips in another finger.

Taeil stretches him slowly, carefully, like he’s savoring it; but Sicheng tires of it quickly. The ache of arousal in his stomach twists with resentment as he imagines forcing himself back on Taeil’s fingers, demanding it. But he’s too dignified for it, almost too proud to beg.

He reaches down to wrap a hand around his neglected cock and moans open-mouthed at the much-needed stimulation. His knees threaten to slip apart, but Taeil hauls him up by the hip, holds him in place so effortlessly that Sicheng gets lightheaded.

“You good, love?”

“Fine,” Sicheng spits. Taeil has three fingers working him open, now, but it’s not enough. “I--”

Then Taeil jabs three fingers against his prostate, and Sicheng screams.

“Please,” he whimpers against the spit-stained fabric of the pillow, then turns his head to look back at Taeil. “Please.” He’s pathetic. Lost.

Taeil’s eyes are zeroed in on his ass, gaze dark and intense and jaw hard as a rock. _Look at me, idiot_.

“What do you need, Sichengie?” Sicheng closes his eyes and lets Taeil fuck him with his fingers, thumb around his rim and play with his hole like it’s a toy. He can’t bring himself to ask. “Hmm?”

“I’m ready. Please.”

Taeil’s eyes dart over to meet his--he catches it, blinking his own open. “So polite,” Taeil murmurs, almost to himself, and withdraws his fingers.

Sicheng watches at an angle that’s sure to put a crick in his neck, tries to catch his breath as Taeil wipes his hand on his jeans and starts to unbutton them, working them off at a pace that feels slow enough to be torturous against Sicheng’s jackrabbit heartbeat. There’s a wet spot at the front of Taeil’s boxers, and then they’re off, and Sicheng wants to sob as Taeil’s cock bobs free--so fucking hard and thick, angry red and wet with precum. His gut lurches, and he whimpers anyway.

Taeil bends over to press a kiss to Sicheng’s shoulder, smoothes his hand along his ribs and pulls Sicheng’s hips up. “Ready for me?”

Sicheng moans, frustrated, and then Taeil’s pouring lube over his dick, stroking himself a few times he bends over and drags Sicheng’s ass to his hips so he can press the fat head of his cock past his rim.

Taeil groans like it’s being dragged out of him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Sicheng can’t seem to breathe, like Taeil’s cock forces the air out of his lungs. Fingers are nothing, don’t split him open and take him apart like this, the pulsing, searingly hot organ Taeil presses into him centimeter by centimeter.

He doesn’t know why he loves this, the pleasure-pain of being filled, being _wrecked_. It’s so contrary to everything else about him--his dignity, his need for space and hatred of being touched, his fragile ego. Maybe it’s purely a physical need, but something in his spirit craves it too, how Taeil bends him over, makes him feel small and used and wanted. Maybe he’s lucky that Taeil wants it even more.

Taeil shivers against him when he bottoms out, and his breath shakes. Sicheng still wants for air, almost unable to hold himself up, yet his cock leaks a steady stream on the sheets. It’s unreal.

A small noise escapes him when Taeil rolls his hips, working him through the adjustment. “Okay, Sichengie?” He kisses his shoulder again wetly, then reaches around to tweak one of his oversensitive nipples. Sicheng gasps.

“Yeah,” he manages, and slightly loses it when he feels Taeil’s dick jump inside him. “Yeah, please, fuck me, I--”

Taeil doesn’t make him beg. He pulls out halfway and fucks back inside, balls deep again in one smooth, controlled stroke, and Sicheng cries out. His voice has already gone higher, uninhibited, and he can’t get enough of a grip to control it, for all that he wishes that he could even though Taeil says he loves it. The humiliation goes straight to his dick, as does the pain, the heat of Taeil’s body, all of it.

Taeil fucks him like that, measured and deep, not in any hurry, and starts making these soft little noises from the back of his throat. It makes Sicheng insane.

“Fucking perfect.” Taeil grips his hips for leverage and thrusts into him harder, words spilling lowly from his lips where he’s bent over the curve of Sicheng’s back. “S’like you were made to take cock.”

 _Made_ , Sicheng thinks, or rather feels. Something about the word, or his tone or the way Taeil’s cock drags against his insides explodes in a wave over his body, sparking the tension in his abdomen until it’s almost painful. He sobs into the pillow, then takes it between his teeth and groans carelessly loud.

“Please,” Sicheng moans against the fabric, then turns his head just enough so his voice isn’t muffled. “Harder, I need--”

 _I need to cum_. It’s embarrassing being this desperate. Maybe it’s just that it’s been a while, for them.

“God,” Taeil grinds out. He shifts, moving off of Sicheng’s back and letting his stiff cock slip out. Sicheng whines at the loss, hole clenching around nothing and feeling filthy with the drip of excess lube down his thighs, even more embarrassed at the tears that gather at the corners of his eyes. Then Taeil pats his thigh, bends down to say, “Turn over?” and he gets it.

He falls on his back with relief, greeted by Taeil’s flushed face and torso, dick in hand as he watches Sicheng spread his legs wordlessly. Realizing how he must look, Sicheng covers his face, and Taeil laughs.

“Mmm, don’t hide.” Taeil pries Sicheng’s hands away from his face and kisses his palm, then his mouth. His lips are swollen and sensitive, but kissing him is still sweeter than honey, and infinitely hotter when their chests press together and Taeil intertwines their hands, pressing them into the pillows. Without breaking the kiss, Taeil hoists one of Sicheng’s legs over his shoulder and rubs the wet tip of his cock against Sicheng’s entrance. Sicheng nearly bites his tongue off.

“C’mon,” Sicheng mumbles against Taeil’s lips. _No more teasing, god_ \--then Taeil’s dick catches at his rim, and he moans despite himself, angling his hips upwards to receive him.

Taeil lifts himself up to thrust inside, hard and deep, angled so that his cock slides past his prostate on every other stroke. His vision nearly whites out on the first pass. He arches off the bed, clamps a hand over his mouth and slings the other around Taeil’s neck, digging into the muscle of his back like he’s holding on for dear life, hardly thinking that he’ll have crescent-shaped welts on his shoulder to remind him tomorrow but feeling it anyway. The surge of possessiveness that’s so unlike him.

Though it’s not as if he needs it. Taeil stares at him with adoration, even like this, completely rapt.

Now, his sweat-slick brow furrows; his thrusts grow desperate, urgent, fingers wrapped tight enough to bruise around Sicheng’s thigh.

“Careful,” Taeil says suddenly, and Sicheng releases the lip that he’d been biting from between his teeth. Rookie mistake. He mourns the loss, fisting his hands in the sheets and squeezing his eyes shut instead--only for them to pop open with a gasp when Taeil’s hand wraps around his cock.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck.” Taeil fists him impatiently, gracelessly, and Sicheng burns alive with his touch, the beat of Taeil’s blood around him, so close and _everywhere_ and still not enough. “Taeil. Mmmmmm, I need--”  

“You close?” He twists his hand over Sicheng’s cock just so as he says it, wrenching a moan out of Sicheng and making him clench without meaning to. Taeil gasps, and his pace stutters, but only just so. “Fuck, Sicheng--gonna cum, you’re so fucking tight.”

The image of Taeil’s orgasm seizes him, and suddenly Sicheng wants nothing more. “Inside,” he begs, “cum inside, please.”

Taeil’s eyes widen. “No.”

“Huh?”  

“Not--not now.”

Sicheng wants to cry, disbelieving that Taeil would demand so much and not give him this--this one fucking thing: the warmth of his release in his body, dripping down his thighs while they come down. “Fuck,” he says, the fight already gone out of him. But the fantasy persists; and when Taeil’s cock rubs past his prostate the nth time he almost cries aloud, only clapping a hand over his mouth at the last moment.

He thinks he loves this. Taeil is so good to him.

“Sicheng,” Taeil says, breathless, “cum for me, baby, please.” He pulls at his cock, twists the head the way Sicheng likes it with surprising dexterity; and Sicheng’s insides pulse with the feeling of Taeil in him, slick and hot and full like nothing else. Sicheng reaches for Taeil’s hand around him and meets him stroke for stroke, weakly, just for a moment, before Taeil’s cock nudges his prostate one more time and sets him aflame; and it’s to this that his world goes white.

His body, pulled taut, snaps. Hard, like he’s been waiting for weeks, ages, the bed and the hotel room replaced with a sparking sensation over every inch of his skin like he’s a live wire. Cum shoots over his and Taeil’s fists and lands on his stomach, but he barely registers it, eyes clenched shut and groaning into his hand before Taeil pulls it away, wanting to see him like this, when he’s most vulnerable.  Taeil strokes him through it, fists ropes of cum out of him endlessly, until it’s not, and it ends.

He knocks Taeil’s hand from his softening cock weakly, and Taeil complies, his thrusts slowing until he pulls out. Sicheng whines, resists the urge to close his legs around the way his hole flexes and lube drips onto his thighs. Instead, he watches wordlessly, part in a daze and part in awe, as Taeil fists his own cock, bringing himself off with his eyes fixed on Sicheng’s spent body.

“Sicheng, Sicheng,” he says. He pulls his body over Sicheng and captures his lips like he’s starving for it. Sicheng kisses back numbly and pets his body, the sweat-slick skin of his back. “You did so well. Feel so good.”

Taeil cums on Sicheng’s stomach with his mouth caught on a soundless gasp, eyes shut. Sicheng’s abdomen clenches. He memorizes the sight, the soft sounds that escape him, letting his hands linger.

Taeil’s chest heaves, and he stays like that for a moment, before opening his eyes to meet Sicheng’s. He smiles. Sicheng would smile back, but can’t get the muscles of his face to work. It doesn’t matter. Taeil collapses beside him, then, and lets out a sigh.

Like that, they let their breaths settle, skin cooling a fraction.

Sicheng feels like he’s floating.

He thinks he could float off into the atmosphere like that, leaving his sweaty, cum-covered body behind, but Taeil touches his arm, grounding him in an instant.

“Hey.” He’s rolled onto his side. Sicheng turns his head as little as possible to meet his eyes; and then, ridiculously, flushes. His eyes seem shimmery, even in the low lighting, pinched with happiness. It’s almost too much to bear.

He moves closer after a moment, cups the back of Sicheng’s neck and kisses him open-mouthed. Sicheng surprises himself with how he kisses back, like Taeil’s tongue in his mouth is just what he was missing. But Taeil breaks it, making Sicheng pout, only to press another kiss and another on his lips, his cheekbone, the tip of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Sicheng mumbles. It slips out. “For. Uhh.”

Taeil’s brows furrow, then smooth out in understanding. “Sichengie. God, it’s okay, we should just. Talk about it.”

Sicheng lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Ah.”

They lay in silence like that, Taeil tracing nonsense patterns on Sicheng’s ribs; and for once, he’s too at peace with the moment to flick him off.

“I’ll get you a towel,” Taeil murmurs, but doesn’t move to get up immediately. His gaze is still possessed, staring at Sicheng. Sicheng thinks he’ll never tire of it.

“I’ll have to take another shower.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Mmm, you’re not,” Sicheng says, and Taeil laughs softly.

“You’re right.” Taeil crowds against him like before, turning Sicheng’s chin up so he can kiss his neck. Sicheng’s skin buzzes under his tongue, like he could go for more (but he won’t, if he knows what’s best for him), and he has to bite back an embarrassing sound when Taeil’s teeth graze his adam’s apple. “I love you.”

Taeil pulls back to nuzzle again him, breathing in and out, then nothing. He’s quiet, but not expectant. In the background, the dehumidifier hums.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/winwinism) / [Listography](https://listography.com/winwinism)


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